


The Savior

by writewithurheart



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Curse, Hero Journey, Multi, Younger Emma, tags will change as the story continues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-13 01:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4503369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writewithurheart/pseuds/writewithurheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Evil Queen’s curse was foiled with the birth of the Savior. The fated Savior, Emma grows up loved and cherished in the Enchanted Forest, but her fate still follows her. So she embarks on her own journey of self-discovery, never imagining exactly where it could take her.  </p>
<p>A take on what life would have been like if Regina's curse didn't succeed and Emma grew up in the Enchanted Forest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Savior

“Your highness?”

The tentative voice calls through the curtains of the four poster bed, sighing at the rumpled sheets and missing crown princess. It’s not the first time and it certainly won’t be the last Granny comes to wake Princess Emma only to find an empty bed.

She continues through the princess’s rooms, picking up quickly tossed aside pajamas and adding them to the wash pile with a sigh.

With Charming and Snow White as her parents, it’s no wonder the princess is a little wild.

...

Emma slips through the waking streets of the town, relishing the smell of baking bread and the sun just starting to illuminate the small buildings. It’s her favorite time of the day, when not everyone’s active and she can explore to her heart’s content.

Once the village starts to bustle, it increases the chances that someone will be looking for her. She’ll be dragged back to the castle and then she’ll get one of her mother’s ‘I’m disappointed’ speeches. If she’s lucky, her father will discover her missing first and track her down. If he finds her, it usually results in a day exploring the forest and honing her skills instead of spending hours and hours in fancy dresses navigating a world of politics and courtesy.

And if she’s really _really_ good, she’ll get back into her room without anyone noticing she’s disappeared. That means she needs to move quickly.

She veers into an alley, tucking a stay strand of blonde hair back under her hood.

Two days before her eighteenth birthday, two days before her official coronation, two days where everyone who’s anyone will be at her home, two days where her mother will try to get her to hit it off with some prince, and two days of her father rolling his eyes and reminding her mother that that never worked for them.

“Hey, Swan. Where’ve you been?”

Emma grins as she turns to the boy who asked the question. “Peter.” She pulls a roll from her cloak and tosses it to him, handing the bag to one of the even younger children who always gather around to hear Peter’s stories.

“Swan, you are the best.” He tears into the roll as they start walking towards the pastures on the outskirts of town, a trail of children too young to work skipping alongside. She smiles at their undiluted joy.

“Don’t forget it,” she says with a laugh, moving out of the way of a racing child.

“How late can you stay?”

Emma shrugs. She likes to spend time with the village people, which is something her mother agrees with, which is the only reason her mother tolerates her disappearances. She also likes spending time with the kids Peter always surrounds himself with. They’re so happy and willing to listen to all her stories.

“They don’t need you at the castle? Aren’t you preparing for the coronation of the Savior?” Peter jokes. Emma hides her grimace at the title.

Savior. It’s such a loaded word.

Peter’s eleven. He’s too young to really remember the terror of the Evil Queen’s reign...they both are, but to him the title Savior means nothing.

To Emma, it means pressure to be perfect. On top of the pressure that comes with being a princess, Emma is also saddled with the duty to save the Enchanted Forest. It’s enough to make her want to escape the castle every chance she can get. She really doesn’t have that much trouble with the princess part of her life: She’s a natural leader. It’s the title Savior she hates.

She turns back to the inquisitive boy she made her friend a year ago. “I snuck out. I probably need to head back soon.”

Her eyes are drawn back to the castle towers taunting her where they poke up over the town. They gray stone stands strong and tall, a symbol or her parents’ reign.

“Yeah, I imagine there’s a lot going on there.” Peter shakes his head. “Good luck dealing with the festivities.” He toasts her with the roll and brilliant grin.

She reaches out and tousles his hair. “Will do. See you later, Peter.”

...

The grounds are bustling with preparation for the party, so Emma slips in undetected with the decorations. She almost gets caught by Granny at the main hall, but a quick distraction in the form of her sister, Eva, searching for her favorite hair piece allows her to race around the corner, sliding along the wall like it’s a lifeline.  

She thinks she’s in the clear as she rounds the corner to the private courtyard, a smile already gracing her face as she pulls her hood back.

“Ahem.”

Emma winces. She quenches her preemptive celebration, fixing an innocent smile on her face as she turns to the guard on duty. “Morning, Graham.”

He frowns lightly, raising an eyebrow, but amusement flashes in his eyes. “Your mother’s looking for you, Highness.” She scowls, preparing to turn around and face the music. She’s going to have to walk through the hall and listen to Granny’s admonishments. Then Graham leans forward, glancing around for any passersby. “I recommend scaling the ivy.” He winks at her, straightening.

She grins. “Thank you, Graham.”

He nods stoically, turning to face forward again like nothing interrupted his shift.

Emma tiptoes through the green jungle of a courtyard, sticking to the shadows where no one can glimpse her by chance.

Her balcony is only one floor up with ivy clinging to the walls and the chinks in the uneven wall making perfect hand holds. She uses the path so often she doesn’t need to think as she quickly scales the wall. Her fingertips wrap around the edge of the balcony railing. She’s almost in the clear. No one has to know she ever left.

She pulls herself over the railing, dropping to the floor silently. Now, all she needs to do is squeeze herself into a gown and join her mother in the throne room. No one needs to know.

“Well, that’s a security risk.”

Emma jumps, turning to face her father with a guilty grin.

He steps forward. A stern look graces his features, but there’s a glint of amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Your mother’s worried.”

“And I’m going. I just need to change first.” She leads the way into her closet. Color assaults her. Far more dresses than she could ever wear line the walls, but her favorite clothes are the ones she’s wearing now: a loose tunic, comfortable leggings and worn-in boots.

“Aurora and Philip are here. She wants you to greet them.” Her father interrupts her thoughts, leaning against the door to the room.

Emma nods. Of course. He’s here to ensure she makes it to the throne room in a timely manner. And if it’s Aurora and Philip, that means their son is also here. Which means her mother would want her dressed as nicely as possible: political marriages and all that nonsense.

She zeroes in on the two dresses Granny had laid over a chair for her, gently fingering the fabric of one. It’s soft and comforting. And like most of the dresses, it’s new. A gift for her Coming of Age.

She wants to go for the red dress. She loves the way the skirt flows from the waist, but it’s a ball gown, probably set aside by Granny for a welcome dinner tonight since the royals have started arriving.

So, the blue gown it is. It’ll bring out her eyes.

“Dad, did you ever just want to get away from the whole royalty thing? Like to just run and never look back?” Emma asks as she pulls the blue dress off the chair, glancing back at her father over her shoulder.

He smiles softly. “You forget: I was raised as a shepherd, Em. I’m much more comfortable working with my hands, but someone needs to lead. And if it’s your mother leading, I’ll do whatever I have to to be with her and to keep her safe. That’s what love is.”

She nods, moving back behind the decorative screen to change.

“What’s really bothering you, sweetie?” He asks. He was always more insightful like that.

Emma flings her tunic and top over the standing panel screen and steps into the dress, lacing her dress up the front. She doesn’t bother taking off the leggings and her boots. No one will be able to tell what she’s wearing under the dress anyway.

“Dad, do you ever wonder if that savior magic was just a one-time thing? Like everyone’s waiting for something that will never happen? Or what if evil does come back and I can’t stop it?” She walks out, brushing out the skirt of her dress so she doesn’t have to meet his eyes.

David pulls her into a hug, embracing his daughter. “You have magic inside of you, Emma. But even if you didn’t, you would still be this amazing, incredible woman. And your mother and I would still be proud of you.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head and she squeezes him back.

“Thanks, Dad,” she whispers back to him. But it’s not the magic that worries her. It’s the expectations.

“What else is it?”

She winces as she pulls away. He wasn’t supposed to see through her façade, but of course he does. “Uh...”

“You can tell me,” he prompts, following her as she moves to her vanity, back to avoiding his eyes as much as possible.

Emma fastens her hair back in a half ponytail with a couple fancy pins, trying to ignore her father’s probing eyes in the mirror.  She offers him a winning smile instead. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful,” he whispers, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

“Walk with me?” She asks, holding out her arm.

He chuckles. “Look at my little girl: all grown up.”

Emma rolls her eyes as they start down the hallway. “Dad...”

He pats her arm as they meander toward the main hall, people clearing a path before them.

When they come to a stop before the impressive oak doors, ornately decorated with curling vines and leaves, he pulls her to a stop. “You’re going to be amazing.”

“You’re such a sap.” But she can’t fight the love in her heart because he’s her dad and he’ll always care about her. She turns back to the door and straightens, smiling widely as the door swings open to the rest of her day.

...

Halfway through lunch it happens.

Her mother is sitting at the head of the table, declaiming in a proud voice: “There we were: terrified for the future of our kingdom as the purple cloud descended on us. The curse was coming and we had nowhere to go.”

Emma sighs, moving her food around on her plate. It’s a story she’s heard hundreds of times and each time hardly a word changes. She could probably tell the story herself.

“David and I,” she spares a loving look for her husband, the kind that makes the women clutch their hearts and sigh. “We knew we couldn’t make it to the wardrobe with Emma, so I held my baby girl close to my chest and pressed a kiss to her forehead.”

Snow reaches out a hand to hold David’s. “Always the hero, David pulled us in close to protect us for as long as he could.” She sighs.

From anyone else, Emma would call the act theatrical, but from her mother every moment was sincere. This was the moment her mother was most proud of: her eldest daughter’s greatest accomplishment. She tells this story to everyone who will listen and this time is no different.

“I remember looking down as the cloud reached us to get one last look at my precious baby girl.” She turns her smile on Emma, who forces a matching one to her lips, like the Savior’s story doesn’t saddle her with epic responsibility.

“And all Emma did was smile.

“In a middle of the chaotic curse, my newborn baby girl smiled up at me. With that smile, all I saw was blinding white light that pulsed from her small body, white light that blasted away the curse, banishing it from our land for all time.”

Emma starts to feel the buzzing in her veins, like she’s lit up with energy from the inside and she knows she needs to get out of the hall. Forget the overly polite prince to her left making nice conversation, forget that all her parents’ friends sitting around the room, forget that her parents will not be happy: she needs to leave _now_.

“And our baby, with her warm heart and kind smile, sits here now, almost a woman at eighteen. So many years have passed, but we still remember how her good magic, born of pure love, saved our kingdom from the greatest of all evils. May she always shine bright!”

“Here here!” A toast rings out.

But it’s too much for Emma. She can’t stay. The buzzing, the story; it’s all too overwhelming.

The chair’s legs scrape against the floor as she stands. Somewhere in her tumble of words is a quick apology to their guests as she excuses herself and races out of the room. If she had time to slow herself to a lady-like walk, she would, but the buzzing is still increasing, taking over her senses until it’s all she can hear.

One foot in front of the other, she races toward her room, slamming the door behind her just as the sensation overloads, knocking her to her knees in a flash of white light.

...

“Emma. Emma, wake up, sweetheart. Wake up.”

She blinks into bright lights and her parent’s faces hovering over her. She sits up, the buzzing luxuriously gone even if the stone floor feels like it left some unfortunate bruises on her skin. “Mom?”

“Oh, thank goodness you’re alright.” Snow throws her arms around her daughter, pulling her in close, like she almost lost her. “What happened, sweetie? And what did you do to your room?”

Emma’s eyes fly open, her mouth following suit as she takes in her room. Normally, a riot of color, everything has been bleached into a gleaming white so bright it’s almost impossible to look at. Even the stone floor has morphed into a pure white. There’s no way she can explain that away easily.

“Um...”

“Emma, what’s been going on with you? Is there something you need to tell us?” Snow prompts, pulling away so her eyes can carefully meet Emma’s. She looks every part the queen, from the crown on her head to the intricately beaded dress. Kneeling on the floor is going to leave creases in that beautiful dress.  

Emma shakes her head. That’s not what she should be focusing on right now.

“No. No. It’s nothing.”

She winces at the frown and glance her parents exchange. They know she’s lying and they’re not the ones with that gift. Then again, she just turned a whole room white so it’s hardly a wonder they know something’s up that she’s not telling them.

“Honey, your room is now white. The whole _castle_ is white. What is going on?”

Emma blinks at the new information, twisting to look up at her father. “The whole castle?”

It’s never been this bad before. Sure, she’s had a few incidents with making flowers grow and accidental floating, but never something this large scale. The _whole castle_?

“All the stone at least,” her mother clarifies. “Now, what is going on?”

“It’s her magic.”

Emma deflates at the blue fairy’s clear voice. For her, it’s hardly better than a death sentence. Now everything will be about her magic. Because the magic coursing through her veins isn’t her own. It belongs to the kingdom. Because it broke the curse and prophesy has promised that it can do so much more.

“It’s struggling to get out.”

“What?” Snow asks, exchanging a worried glance with David, which Emma pretends not to notice.  

“She needs to be trained. She needs to use her magic,” the blue fairy explains, flitting so she flies in front of Emma’s face. Her little face smiling like this is the best news she’s had in years. “Emma, you are the most powerful source of light magic I have ever seen.”

Emma swallows hard, feeling the weight of that title again, even though no one’s said the word: Savior. She closes her eyes, but even her magic can’t block out the fairy’s next words that hit like a hammer:

“You are a blessing to us all.”

...

Emma returns to lunch with her head held high like the princess she is, ignoring Eva’s pursed lips and all the curious faces. What she can’t ignore is the fact that all the stone is now pure, white marble with golden tendrils to accent the stone.

Also the silence, the deference bestowed on her by everyone at the table.

Where there used to be easy conversation, now there were long gaps of silence that left her waiting for more. Even things with Prince Brandon were stilted and lacking. She wants to rewind time back to before the buzzing took over her system, back to when being the perfect princess was all she had to think about.

She catches Edward’s eye and he shrugs in her direction, mouthing ‘sorry,’ but he’s down at the other end of the table and in no position to rescue her from the suddenly uncomfortable surroundings.

This. This is why she never told anyone.

“So, Princess, how are you enjoying your meal?” Prince Brandon finally asks after five minutes of prolonged, painful silence. His nose scrunches up as he forces the question out.

It still comes out jerky and flat.

Emma summons a smile, this time catching her sister’s longing gaze on Brandon as she turns to face the prince in question. Good. Good for Eva. She can have him. She wants nothing to do with the boy next to her. His father may have slain a dragon, but he could barely handle the knife he’s gripping primly with three fingers.

“The meal is delightful,” she comments, maintaining her smile. “How are you enjoying your pheasant?” She munches on a forkful of her own bird as he contemplates an answer.

“It is delightful.” He offers her a painful smile as he repeats her words back at her and Emma takes glee in her response:

“I’m glad you like it. It took my father and I a good day of hunting to catch this many. And of course, Edward joined us. It was a lovely trip.” She pops another piece in her mouth as his eyes widen comically in shock, darting down to the plate in evident distaste.

Emma grins, turning back to her plate. Eva curls her lip in another scowl and Emma winks, proud of herself as she adds the icing on the cake. “Eva stayed behind to help with Mom’s outreach program. How’s that going?”

Eva beams at the opportunity to jump in. She immediately draws Brandon into a conversation on the importance of helping the poor, and Emma gets the chance to eat in peace without condemning everyone around her to silence.

The rest of lunch drags on, leaving Emma restless enough that her mother throws her a meaningful look from the head of the table and she settles down again.

But at the end of the meal, her parents let her escape back to her room. In the nearly white sanctuary of silence, Emma pulls out the Fairy Tale book, flipping through the pages and wishing for more than her sheltered life.

She wants a story like one in this book. She wants to go on an adventure, meet extraordinary people, fight dragons. She doesn’t want to sit around waiting for some Big Evil to attack so she can be sent to the front lines to protect everyone.

Emma knows she can be more than the pretty princess and sacrificial lamb. She’s a child of heroes and she can be one herself.

Sitting back, she stares at the open book as she makes her decision. She concentrates on the book and waves her hand, imagining the book closing. The book remains where it is, without a single ruffle of a page, leaving Emma to frown in disappointment.

Taking a deep breath, she tries again, concentrating. Internally, she searches for the buzzing sensation deep in her body and finds it buried deep. It’s soft and barely there, a small flutter in between her heartbeats, but she drags it to the surface, focusing on the book. She makes the same motion, but instead of just shutting, the book goes flying back to its place on the shelf.

Emma laughs with joy at the success of her first experiment, jumping on the bed like a little child.

She hops off her bed and races into her closet, shucking her gown for her previous tunic and cape. She tosses a change of clothes and some money into a bag. Next into the bag is her sword, and she slips a dagger into her boot.

The only thing left is a note she needs to write. It’s a note she’s started to scribble hundreds of times since her twelfth birthday when she accidentally sent all the books in a back corner of the library flying off the shelves. It had taken her hours to replace everything and in the end she reached the conclusion that she had to learn magic and the only way to do that was to run away.

That conviction had lasted all off five minutes when she realized she didn’t know anyone who could teach her good magic. But those five minutes had been long enough for her to draft the first version of the note.

In the years since, whenever she felt alone, or a bit of magic overpowered her, Emma wrote notes to her parents explaining her reasoning – she was a danger to them, she wanted to get away from the pressure, Eva had put glue in her hair and Edward had laughed. And each time the letter ended up in the fire because she couldn’t bear the thought of her parents finding them. They would be devastated.

But today – turning the castle white, losing control of her magic that badly – was the final straw. It’s time to write that note for real. She knows it.

So she heads to the paper and pen on her desk:                   

_Mom, Dad,_

_I’m sorry to leave you this way, but it has to be done. All your grand adventures, your stories have led you to this wonderful life. It’s beautiful and peaceful with so much love. It’s all I’ve ever felt growing up here, all I ever wanted, but I can’t stay._

_I want you to know it has nothing to do with you. Truly, it doesn’t. You taught me our lives belong to our people as much as to ourselves, if not more. It’s our duty to protect them, but I can’t do that if I don’t know them, if I don’t know what I can do with these powers I have._

_So I’m leaving to learn, about myself, about our people, about my powers._

_It’s scary, for all of us, but this is something I have to do, something you both had to do to. All I ask is that you give me this time. I’ll continue to send letters. Just trust that you’ve taught me to handle myself, because you have._

_I will be all right._

Her hand hovers over the page for an agonizing moment of indecision before she finally pens her signature at the end:

_Your Loving Daughter,_

_Emma_

...

“Peter?”

His lips quirk in a smile as he turns to the timid voice. “Swan, didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

Emma smiles back, lifting a bag of food. “I brought you something.”

“Thanks!” He glances inside. “Whoa! That’s a lot of food, Swan. What’s this for?”

“I’m not going to be around for a while.”

His attention is on her face instead of the wealth of food in his hands. Emma finds his eyes cunningly sharp and clever. It’s not something she sees on a regular day. But as soon as she notices the glint, it’s gone. He’s back to the cheery kid who laughs, dances, and tells stories to younger children about a land where kids never grow up.

“Where’re you going?” He asks.

Emma shrugs. “I’ll figure it out as I go along. But don’t worry, I’ll come back.” She smiles and turns, ready to start her journey after her final goodbye.

He stops her with a hand on her shoulder, his face serious once more. “Here. Take this.”

She slowly reaches for the necklace Peter holds out, running her hand over the small instrument on the chord. “What is it?”

“It’s a pan flute.” He grins, pressing it into her hand. “This one...my dad said it was magic. If you’re in trouble, just play it and it will take you away to safety.”

“I can’t accept this. It’s too much.” She tries to hand it back, but he takes a step away.

“I want you to have it. It’ll make me feel better. Please.”

Reluctantly Emma fastens the chord around her neck, staring down at the small flute. Leaning down, she pulls Peter into a hug. “Thank you.”

She steps away with a sad smile before she turns and walks away from everything she’s ever known. She doesn’t know what lies ahead or where her feet will take her, but she’s ready for an adventure. She’s not her parents, running from evil queens or arranged marriages. She’s not even leaving to find her independence. Each step she takes, each breath, is going to be a chance for her to decide, for her to own her life, for her to figure out what her power, what her privilege was given to her for.

She doesn’t want someone to tell her what her life should be, what her gifts are for. She wants to learn for herself, free to make mistakes and learn on her own.

It’s her choice.

...

Absorbed in her own thoughts, strutting from her entire life, Emma doesn’t see the sinister grin Peter’s face before he turns and flies off into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Once Upon a Time fic. I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> I blame this entire enterprise on hedreamedofaship on tumblr. I owed her a OUAT fic and we started talking about this idea and it just took on a life of it's own. She's a die-hard OUAT fan and you should totally check out her stuff! 
> 
> But I would love to hear what you thought, so please leave a comment/kudos or just bookmark it! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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